


Into the Light

by rainingWolf



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Atlas - Freeform, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Let Shiro Rest 2k18, Love, Nira Shirani, OC, Therapy, he literally became atlas, now maybe he can finally rest and take a breath, shiro going through a process to rediscover who he can be after everything that's happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15985103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainingWolf/pseuds/rainingWolf
Summary: “I’ve heard you were a punctual man but I still didn’t expect you…,” the woman’s eyes drifted to the clock and back on him,”... to be 15 minutes early.” She steepled her fingers under her chin so that she looked like she’s praying for patience, and Shiro reminded himself that he only had to attend five obligatory sessions with a psychiatrist.//slight Shallura if you squint hard enough





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sleapyGazelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapyGazelle/gifts).



**Session 1**

"Takashi Shirogane," the receptionist announced as she opened the door to the therapist's office and ushered him in with a polite smile. Shiro stood still as the door shut behind him. A worn out couch sat at an angle that took up most of the room and he vowed there and then not to lie back on it; there would only be one reason for him to be sitting, sobbing his heart out, reliving his past like he wasn't already reliving it everytime he awoke from sleep every day since he's landed on Earth.

The only other piece of furniture was a wicker chair with blue cushion coverings, currently occupied by a woman that Shiro presumed was his therapist; she looked like a posh kid straight out of university who wouldn't be able to grasp the concept of life as an adult, never mind as a soldier.

He casted a glance over the rest of the room, taking in the plain colored walls and carpet, the clock with large, black numbers and a loud hand ticking away the seconds, and the open window behind the wicker chair with no blinds, just blue curtains that don't match the wicker chair coverings or the couch; cold air drifted in from the widow and Shiro's already unwanted desire to be here plummeted even further.

"Ah, Mr. Shirogane. I've been waiting for you."

Shiro focused on the therapist again and said nothing.

"I've heard you were a punctual man but I still didn't expect you…," the woman's eyes drifted to the clock and back on him,"... to be 15 minutes early." She steepled her fingers under her chin so that she looked like she's praying for patience, and Shiro reminded himself that he only had to attend five obligatory sessions with a psychiatrist.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," he replied, still standing, and tried not to think about the things he had believed in before the war.

"And yet, here you are in my office. Can I call you Takashi?" The therapist looked him over, from the toes of his Garrison-issued boots to the tips of his white hair, and smiled. It's a small, close-mouthed smile, but one that promised sharp, sharp teeth and something deep in Shiro's brian sparked to life at that hint of trouble.

"Will you sit," she asked, gesturing to the couch; the words weren't even out of her mouth when she was cut off by Shiro nodding no. He's done enough sitting, enough  _nothing_  for a lifetime.

A beat, two, passed where only the ticking clock hands were heard.

"Tell me about yourself," she said, tilting her head to one side like a curious bird.

"You've got my file," he replied and it already felt like eons since he's stepped into the room.

"I haven't read it."

"You haven't read it…," Shiro repeated, feeling slow, stupid, as if he was wading in lukewarm water. "But you've got my files."

"Yes, but I haven't read it."

Shiro felt like a circle was somehow completed with all the parroting they both just did and chose to sit down on the edge of the long couch instead.

He didn't lean back.

"There's really nothing you want to tell me, Takashi?" That smile was still on her face and he shifted minutely, aware that her eyes were on his arm, his hair, his scar across his face.

The curtains fluttered a bit before stilling.

"The name's Nira Shirani, since I doubt you bothered to find out. You're required to spend a further four sessions with me and if you don't want to talk to me now, you still have time. I'll see you same time next week." She stood up, face shadowed by the setting sun. "Try not to shoot yourself in the meantime."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Shiro said and he hated the way his voice sounded. Disused. Husky. Raw.

Shirani stepped around him and opened the door; in the closed space, Shiro had a sudden inkling that perhaps, she does know what she's talking about.

"Of course not. Therefore, I have nothing I'm obliged to report. Next week, Takashi."

"I've never tried," Shiro said quietly as he passed her on the way out. He's not sure why. But he did know why he added, "And call me Shiro."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Shiro is ordered to go to therapy and so, he goes.
> 
> \- I hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- Reviews are much appreciated! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Session 2**

Shirani was lying flat on her back on the couch with her hand steepled under her chin. Her suit jacket was flung over the back, but she still had her high heels on. They were propped up on one side of the arm rest.

"I don't think you're meant to be the one on the couch," Shiro told her, pausing at the doorway. The room was the same, the curtains the same dreary mismatched blue that was dissimilar to the blue on the wicker chair covering or the couch.

"Why not? I'm the one that's in here all day. You're only here for forty-five minutes. Why shouldn't I be the one who gets the comfy chair? Take a seat, Shiro," she said, gesturing at the only other one available.

Shiro sat, not because she said so but because he found the wicker chair a better option than the couch. The back was straighter and he found himself sitting upright, soldier ready; the fresh air from the open window was cold and it was a jolt of lightning every time the wind whispered in his ears. He didn't complain.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the ticking of the clock and Shiro found himself relaxing, one beat at a time. He'd never had trouble with silence, although that did beg the question of why he's never comfortable alone in his Garrison issued apartment. He didn't dwell on it long, nor the fact that the apartment was the same as the one he had lived in before the Fall. Before the War. Before his descent into the darkness in the stars.

"I did most of the talking at our last session, didn't I," Shirani stated more than question. "I do tend to to that, but you need to talk as well, Shiro. Now would be a good time to start."

She crossed her arms and it wasn't until she did that that Shiro noticed that it was because he had folded his own arms when he first sat down. She was mirroring him.

He unfolded his arms and rested them on wicker chair's armrest; the armrests were too small and his hands dangled off it, limp.

He fisted his hands and tried to think of a conversational topic.

He couldn't find any.

"You're not what I expected," Shirani said with an air of confession that seemed more sarcastic and snide than it should've been.

"Oh?," Shiro replied more out of obligation than anything. "You're not what I expected either." It was as close as he could get to  _aren't you a bit young for all this_ without actually saying it.

"And are you what people expect?," Shirani said evenly. "When you queue up at a Starbucks with your fancy medals and fancy uniform, do people see Takashi Shirogane? Of course not. People are never what they seem."

Shiro paled despite himself; the wind had just whispered  _Champion_  in his ears.

Shirani, meanwhile, had swiveled sideways, off the couch and upright, and began pacing back and forth across the office.

"Earth is full of people who may as well be wearing masks for all the attention they pay to one another. No one ever really  _observes_ , Shiro. Lingering behind their faces are the soldiers and the doctors, the murderers, the thieves. The psychotics."

She came to a halt facing Shiro.

"Oh, you like that."

"What?," said Shiro, his face a careful mask, the one that Shirani was talking about. The one that was comforting to wear. The one that hid what he truly felt. The one face that kept him sane.

"The idea of Earth as a war zone, like being back in the war where the enemy could be anyone. Or from anywhere." Shirani threw herself back on to the couch, her legs once again dangling over one armrest. "You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. It's stopped."

Shiro flexed the hand in question, unable to keep himself from checking if it was true. He carefully didn't look at his other arm.

"Interesting," his therapist mused, head tilted to one side like a curious bird before directing her gaze back at the ceiling.

Shiro looked up too and saw the same blank whiteness as his own bedroom. He's not sure if he liked it that they were the same and he didn't think much on it as Shirani picked up where she left off.

"So, tell me more about yourself, Shiro."

They lapsed into silence and Shiro's no longer sure silence was what he wanted as the wind seemed to blow stronger against his back.

"There's really nothing to say." He shrugged. "Nothing ever happened to me."

Shirani let out a huff of breath and Shiro shifted minutely in his chair; she looked as amused as she sounded but also a little exasperated.

Her eyebrows were raised and her eyes pointedly staring at his hair, down to his scar, before dragging its way to his right arm. "Then be the thing that happens to other people," she said.

"Sorry?"

"What is it that you miss from the war, Shiro? The fighting? Healing? Being able to help people?" She paused to take in a breath and the pause seemed deliberate. "A purpose?," she continued a little more softer than he thought she was capable of. "If you miss it so much, go out and find it."

It was an interesting idea, but Shiro's no longer sure he knew how to find anything when he had lost everything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- Reviews are much appreciated! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Session 3**

From the corner of his eyes, Shiro discreetly watched as the clock above Shirani's head inched closer to the next hour. Fourteen minutes left and he thought he had a good chance at grasping the win with this day's silent game.

He'd lost the previous battle, unable to stop himself from speaking, and Shiro was determined not to lose this one too.

_Thirteen minutes left._

He chanced a glance across the way towards Shirani who was sitting back in her wicker chair with the mismatched blue curtains blowing behind her. The curtains seemed to envelope her and he found himself wondering about his therapist. She was young; and while Shiro knew that being young didn't mean she hadn't experienced much in life, it still didn't reassure him. Even though Earth was still recovering. Even though the universe itself was still recovering. Even though Shirani surely was still recovering herself from the Galra's reach.

It still didn't make him want to open up to her and place his trust in her.

Trust.

Everything seemed to boil down to that little five-letter word as of late.

_Twelve minutes left._

Trust was hard to come by but who was he to talk? Who was there to listen? Those who came to him only saw him as the hero who formed Atlas and carried them to victory. The Champion who secured freedom. The lost Paladin who the Black Lion loved so much that he was bought back.

And perhaps Shirani spoke the truth last session. Who would ever see beyond the mask?

Who would want to?

 _Eleven minutes left_.

Shirani didn't move, only her eyes do as they drifted over to him; her notepad laid abandoned next to her, tucked between her side and the wicker chair's armrest.

The silent game continued and Shiro didn't budge in return as the clock ticked away.

 _Ten minutes left_.

His arm was tired from its place on its side and his feet has fallen asleep fifteen minutes into this battle.

 _Nine minutes left_.

"Shiro, what's on your mind right now?"

Shirani made a play as if to write something in her notepad but stopped herself; it was a slip but Shiro was glad to see it. To see that she too was human and not infallible. To see that he wasn't the only one with something to lose.

_Eight minutes left._

"Nothing's on your mind?"

She broke first. It was only fair that he answered. "I'm questioning why the Garrison is paying you to sit with me in silence."

Shirani grinned that shark smile and Shiro sat up straighter, his back never leaning against the couch.

"We're sitting in silence because you refuse to tell me why you're here."

His nails were hard against his palms, digging in as he retorted, "I don't need to be here."

Shirani's voice was sickeningly calm. "Then why  _are_  you here? What's stopping you from leaving?"

"I…," he trailed off, suddenly feeling lost, and no longer feeling sure if he wanted to find out what it was. "I- What is it exactly you want from me?"

 _Seven minutes left_.

Her voice was sickeningly calm. "This isn't about what I want, Shiro, It's about what  _you_  want, and to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure you're ready for therapy."

His nails drew blood. "How can you say something like that?"

She shrugged, eyes still narrow, still sharp, still pinning him down. "Easy. You're… not… ready… for… therapy." She said it in a tone fit for an unruly child and something ugly rose from his stomach, settling in his chest.

"Why-"

"Shiro, you're not ready to open yourself up. You're not ready to talk… about anything. And until you are, we sit here."

A beat, two, ticked by and the only sounds were the clock and the wind blowing in; a storm was brewing in the distance.

"I can only help you if you're willing to help yourself, Shiro."

He sat up straighter in his chair. "I  _am_  willing."

_Six minutes left._

"Then prove it. Talk to me. Tell me… something.  _Anything_." Shirani paused, another deliberate act because she was giving Shiro a chance to do what's right. But he didn't and just stayed his hand.

She hummed in displeasure but her voice retained the same softness he had once thought she was incapable of. "You hide behind your well-constructed walls. I can't get in unless you let me. No one can get in. And no one will be able to get in unless you let them."

 _Five minutes left_.

If he had been in the wicker chair, the armrest would've cracked under the pressure already. "And what exactly do you want me to say?"

"You can start by answering my question. Why are you here?"

And Shiro detonated, something ugly marring his face, changing it from what he was to something he had never thought he could be until he was caught amongst the stars and fell into darkness.

He was on his feet before he knew it, yelling, "Because I'm a mess inside! Because I hate myself and I'm  _sick_  of hating myself! Because I had dreams with Adam and that's gone! Because I feel like I've failed everyone! Because I used to know everything, but now I can't even remember what Adam's voice sounds like! What his hands felt like! Because I failed at keeping Earth safe and  _thousands_  died! I'm here because I don't know what to do and I'm afraid I'm failing the team right now like I've failed Adam! I'm here because I can't go back to my apartment without seeing ghosts!"

His voice cracked. His eyes burned.

Thunder rumbled outside and the curtains blew harder.

Shirani sat, umoving.

"I just-," Shiro stopped, took a breath, ignored the tremors in his arm, and said softly so that the rain almost drowned him out, "I just want to be whole again. I want the pain to stop. I want to breathe. I want to stop lying to everyone about how I'm fine when I'm not. I want to feel good about myself and the decisions I've made. I want to  _love_  myself. But I can't. I just… can't do it on my own. And that's why I'm here."

 _Four minutes left_.

Shirani was just as soft so that Shiro had to take half a step towards her before he stilled himself. "You're  _not_  a failure, Shiro. In fact, you're so much more stronger than you think you are."

Shiro said nothing, spent.

"I can help you see that but you have to change your mindset before any real changes can occur. As long as you think negatively, everything's going to be negative. You keep thinking like that, then you're going to miss out on all the good things and the good people you already have in your life because you're so caught up seeing the bad in everything."

He carefully didn't look at his arm as the wind whipped the curtains harder; he wondered if the curtains would survive this storm. He wondered if he would. "I only see the bad because that's all that's happened to me."

Lightning flashed for a second before the room went dark again. "Do you consider the last three years you've been to space bad? Do you consider finding Voltron bad? Do you consider saving Earth… bad?"

 _Three minutes left_.

Another beat. Another tick. Then, quietly, Shiro whispered, "No…. not all of it was bad."

Shirani blinked, still unmoving in her seat, and Shiro was suddenly aware of how young she looked. How weary.

"So not all of it was bad, huh," she repeated.

_Two minutes left._

"You're quiet again. Are you angry?," she asked after another thunder sounded in the air like a gun.

Shiro took a breath and tried to think of other words than the ones crawling out his mouth. But the honest and cold words escaped before he could stop. "Yes. But not at you."

Shirani moved for the first time in a long time, crossing her legs. "And who are you angry at, Shiro?"

He looked up into her eyes; they were brown, deep, warm, and so unlike the smile she gave him the first day. Those eyes blinked and he looked away, out the window, muttering, "Myself."

Shirani made no move towards her notepad; it had sank between the crevices of the wicker chair's seat cushion long ago. "Why?"

Shiro continued his watch outside the window where the sky was grey and where the rain danced. His words were once again a whisper against his chapped lips. "Because I've done so much wrong. I've hurt so many people and now I have to fix it."

 _One minute left_.

"Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, you know." Shirani took off her glasses and Shiro could see the wrinkles around her eyes.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, I do."

They both looked at the clock at some unspoken agreement. The hands ticked closer to their appointed time in response.

"I think we've made a lot of progress in the last fourteen minutes," Shirani said, never getting up from her seat. She gestured to the door as the familiar chime rang that signalled the session was over.

"Same time next week?"

Shiro nodded and left with no words and into the rain.


	4. Chapter 4

**Session 4**

Shiro felt tight, angry, sleepless nights culminating in a pounding headache, which was not helped by the clock ticking away when he walked into the room.

The sun was shining.

"Afternoon, Shiro," Shirani said. She sat in the wicker chair and looked like she hadn't moved since the last time he left. He wondered if time had stood as still for her as it had for him.

He dropped onto the couch with no words. He's not sure how long time passed before Shirani spoke again.

"Shiro?"

He blinked at her, not realizing he had been drumming his leg against the floor, tapping a beat beat beat that should've annoyed him but didn't.

"Are you all right?," Shirani asked in that soft voice of hers that seemed to sooth and burn him at the same time.

He blinked ghosts away from his visions. "Yeah. I was- I was just lost in a daydream."

She nodded, eyes never lifting away from his. "Care to share?"

"It's nothing serious."

There was a beat, two, where Shirani appeared to give him peace. But it was not to be as she sighed, quiet, weary, looking as tired as he felt this instant. The sight of this young girl before him broke something in him and he found himself speaking before he could stop. "Sometimes, I dream about him. About what could've been."

There was no need to specify who  _him_  was.

"I know," Shiro continued on despite himself, "I know we haven't talked much about him. Or about anything. But… I think I need this."

Shirani nodded again, face shadowed by the burning sun behind her; the curtains were still. There was no wind today.

"And why do you bring him up now?"

"Because-." Shiro cut short before taking a breath, steadying himself. "Because I talked to someone who also knows what loss is like."

"How did everything go?"

He shifted minutely, eyes looking beyond Shirani, out the window, and into the open air. The sky was a perfect blue.

"It was… enlightening," Shiro finally said after struggling for several minutes as to how to explain the experience he went through.

Shirani hummed but said nothing else, thought she did sit a little straighter as if expecting something more from him. He found himself obliging to her unasked question, unaware he was leaning back onto the couch that he had sworn in the first session he would never do. "I was at the wall," there was no need to specify which wall, "and she was… just sitting there. Paying her respects, she said." He paused, stumbled for words. "And we talked. It was… good."

Relieving.

Shirani said nothing and continued her watch. The fact that she didn't ask, didn't pry, didn't say anything at all, just blinking at him with those doe brown eyes made him open up more than he thought he would've the first time he entered the room.

"She knows what loss is like. She lost everything. Family. Friends. Her planet. Even if her people are still alive now, they're not the people she knew back then. She… understands what it's like to be alone."

Shirani looked like she wasn't even breathing but Shiro didn't notice as he got lost in the threads of memories. He was only jolted out of his thoughts when Shirani cleared her throat. "What else did she say," she asked in a knowing tone and Shiro wondered at exactly what she had seen, what she had heard in order to bear the look on her face.

It was kind, near and far all at once, and suddenly, Shiro was the one not breathing as she repeated herself in a whisper. "What else did she say?"

He turned away to look at the clock ticking away the time and swallowed hard. "She said… sometimes, our best just isn't enough."

Shirani tilted her head like a curious bird.

"She said… that we try our best. And that's all we can do. And that we just have to accept that sometimes, our best just isn't enough."

There was a beat, two, where Shiro was glad Shirani said nothing; he took the time to collect himself, to pick up the pieces he had scattered in the room in an attempt to lock himself up again.

But Shirani took that moment to shift; her face had moved out of the sun's shadow long ago. "And do you accept that?"

"I-," he thinned his lips before continuing, still trying to pick up the pieces but it was becoming increasingly hard as the clock ticked away beats of their lives. "I think… I can try." He licked his lips. They were dry.

A small smile, reminiscent of the one that promised sharp sharp teeth, but so unlike to that smile for this one was gentler. Kinder. "That's good. Now you can heal yourself. You… and her."

"But-"

She cut him off. "You've done all you can. You're a hero, Shiro. You've saved not only Earth but the entire universe. Now… it's time for you to find peace. It's not your job to be Atlas, to bear the weight of the universe on your shoulder. Your job is to focus on you and your own healing. Not theirs. Not anyone else's. I know it's hard for you after protecting everyone for so long but you have to stop. You have to let the others find their own solution for everything. You'll never be at peace if you constantly trouble yourself over every little thing."

His vision blurred for a second but he blinked the wetness away. "I know, he whispered. "I know, but it's so hard."

"I know," Shirani said and when he looked back into her eyes, he got the feeling that she did. Truly. "But it's time for you to think about yourself."

Another pause, another moment of silence where they both looked at the dust being illuminated by the sun.

"Is that wrong of me? To want to heal? To take time to think about myself?"

"No, not at all, Shiro," she soothed in her dreadfully calm voice "The burdens that you carried weren't truly yours to carry. At least not alone. You have others to shoulder the burden. You can rely on them when you are weak because no man is strong alone. What you can do now is keep moving forward. You've made too much progress to let yourself be taken back to that place."

"I'm really trying to look forward, but all I can do is look back. All I can do is-," Shiro breathed a sigh. "All I can think about sometimes is him. But he's dead. And it's just so… unfair."

Cruel.

"Sometimes, I'm not sure I can be healed."

"But you can be healed, Shiro. You just may not be able to do it on your own."

Suddenly, Shiro was aware of how he was sinking into the couch and tried to pull himself out; he stopped though, checked himself, and laid still. Tried not to think about the ghosts that haunt him. About dead flowers that reminded him of home. Tried not to think about fire and noise, blood and chaos. But it was too much all at once and everything slid back into focus when Shirani called his name.

"Shiro?"

He jerked awake from the depths of his mind. "Sorry. This is- I- this is too much right now."

"Do you want to stop?"

"I-" He stopped, wondering when he become so scared to face the truth. To face reality.

"I-" He started again, mind still trying to climb out of the hole he had put it in; it wasn't until this moment that he realized that his broken heart had made it hard to open up to anyone, to trust, to feel, to be honest, to  _live_.

"Shiro?" Shirani called calmly, soothingly, and it was a thread back to the surface, back to the small room that had no air because there was no wind today, only the sun and its rays.

"You  _can_  be healed, Shiro," she repeated, back straight, sitting in her mismatched blues. "You just may not be able to do it on your own. All kinds of healing, whether it be healing of the heart or of a broken leg, takes time and patience from you. It takes strength and understanding from those you care about. And you have them. There are people who care for you. Who care so much that they're willing to shoulder whatever it is you ask of them to carry. Because they love you, Shiro.. You may think your heart is broken, damaged, shattered, but it doesn't mean it can't be fixed. It may never be whole, there are hardly ever whole hearts, but it doesn't mean you have to stand in the ashes of your heart. Do you understand that?"

Shiro took in a breath and it burned like the sun outside was on him this instant, cleansing him from the inside out. "Yes," he breathed, "I think I do."

The small smile slipped out again. The kind one. Gentle. "I'm glad."

Another pause. Another beat where Shiro pulled himself together.

Shirani pressed on after a moment. "From now on, I want you to allow yourself to guiltlessly grieve. Feel your emotions, Shiro, but don't believe them." At his questioning gaze, she continued, "That's the mistake you've been making since the beginning. Feeling bad is good. It's therapeutic. But allowing that hopelessness to overwhelm you, allowing yourself to believe that you'll never be happy again, and allowing yourself to fear your post… those things are not good for you."

It made sense. It made so much sense that Shiro couldn't speak for a full minute as the words ran through his head repeatedly. With every second that ticked by, the more ingrained the words became in his head and he wondered how it took so long to understand what he lacked.

"B-but how do I stop fearing the past," he whispered.

"You need to accept your past as unchangeable, learn from it, grow from it, face the rest of your demons, and start living for today."

The timer chimed, signalling the end of session.

The clock ticked. Shirani looked at the door.

Shiro walked out and into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I have no self control, I am posting up a chapter every day. I wanted to post once a week. But I am an impatient fluffball.


	5. Chapter 5

**Session 5**

Something was different about the room and he stood at the doorway for a moment before fully entering. Shirani sat in the wicker chair, relaxed, reading a book; when he entered, she looked up and smiled. This one promised no teeth but warmness and kindness, an image of a gentle low fire, and the sight of it warmed him.

There was a beat, two, where Shiro tried to see what had changed until he realized that maybe it was him.

He felt lighter, like the lazy clouds drifting outside.

He wondered if this was what it meant to be whole. Or at least partly whole. At least not dead like when he died and he was a ghost, whispering things in the air only to be unheard, unseen, untouched by all. It had been lonely. He felt he had deserved it. But now, sitting on the couch, watching the clock tick by, feeling the softness of the couch's fabric, he felt differently. He felt… content.

At peace.

He never thought he would get this far.

There was no need for questions this time, no need for words. Shirani and him sat in silence- her occasionally flipping through the pages of her book and him enjoying the light breeze, the shine of the sun, the warmness of light.

After a few pages, Shirani surfaced from her book, eyebrows crinkling as she looked him over. Satisfied with what she saw, she went back to her book, only looking back up when Shiro asked, "So what now?"

She slid a finger into the book to mark her page and closed the book, one hand still holding onto it as the other came up to tilt her glasses back up. "It depends on where you want to go."

"And where am I, exactly?"

She fully closed her book, putting it in the crevice between the wicker chair's cushion and the armrest; it wasn't until this moment that Shiro realized that the notepad he had thought she had all along was this storybook that she was reading. "A fork in the road."

He blinked, tilting his head over so he could properly see her face. "A what?"

"There are two paths you can take right now. You can go right and ignore everything that you've confessed about your anger, your failures, your fears. Or you can go left and try to figure it all out…," she trailed off, leaving the final words unspoken but they hung in the air, so clear and potent that Shiro didn't have to think to understand her meaning.

_Together. With people who care about you. Who love you. Because you're worth it._

There was a beat, two, where he laid there, eyes damp, because his whole life had been a wild ride and this was the first time in a long time he could just breathe, think, and be himself without the mask.

"Which road do you want to go," Shirani asked in that mellow voice that he had grew to expect, grew to like despite everything that had happened.

He took a hesitant breath. "Left, maybe."

_Left, maybe._

Shirani smiled and it was full, glowing, just like the sun outside the window. "I'm glad," she said. "You've come so far in such a short time. I know you're not completely out of it but I think I've helped you all that I can. I think you're ready." She locked her fingers together on her knee, ankles crossed. "I think you're ready. The real question is: do you think you are?"

The answer was instant. "I think I am."

And he believed it because honesty can be a bitterly cruel thing and he had faced it. He had been honest about the ghosts that ran rampant in his head. He had laid them all out and bid them farewell because sometimes, letting go doesn't mean giving up, but rather accepting that there were things that cannot be. And Adam was dead. Gone. Ashes to the wind.

Even the gods can bring back the fallen leaves.

But he could cherish the memories he had with Adam and still move forward with people he could clearly say he wanted, could even say he loved, in his life.

He repeated, more steadily, "I  _am_  ready," looking down at the arm that used to only bring destruction but now brought creation. There was no longer need for anything else as Shiro laid back on the couch, enjoying silence's company, while Shirani continued her watch over him before returning back to her book.

In the distance, the timer rang and it was with reluctance that Shiro got up from the couch. He stood, fluffed his hair, and waited as Shirani also stood up to walk him to the door.

She was his height and he could clearly see her face as they paused at the doorway. The receptionist had already left. Shiro had been Shirani's last appointment today.

Impulsively, he asked, "How old are you?"

She didn't look surprised at his question. "I'm 27."

Same age as him and when he heard, he realized that perhaps she wasn't as young as he had thought. Or maybe, he was the one who was just older, scarred. He stopped that thought before it fully formed and instead, put out his hand.

"Thank you… Nira."

She took his hand. "It was my pleasure."

He walked out and never looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thank you for sticking around and reading the entire story. I really enjoyed writing this story, trying to channel the inner therapist in me, trying to write down the things that are hard to say, to hear, to know deep within me. This was a very introspective piece for me to write and it was both hard and easy to write this piece. 
> 
> \- Shiro just wants to rest, my poor baby.
> 
> \- I hope you enjoy!
> 
> \- Reviews are much appreciated! :)


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